Chapter Nineteen
My heart raced as I slipped up the stairs, my eyes on Tristan and Bast below me, thankfully involved in a conversation with a couple of older men in similar dinner jackets. I hated lying to them, but I really didn’t want them following me and finding out what I was doing. I was already worried about Nate and why he’d taken off like that. His father was a fucking creep, and my skin crawled just remembering his hand on my waist. He had that hardened look that made it easy to tell he was ex-military, and although he’d been all smiles, I could imagine he could be hard and cold. My heart ached for Nate growing up here.
The upper hall stretched before me in shadows, with only the odd lamp lighting the way. There had been a sign saying that the upstairs was off limits, but I’d searched every room I could find on the ground floor for Carver’s office and I was fast running out of time before the guys wondered where I was.
I opened a few doors leading to darkened bedrooms, and a smaller sitting room before finding the right one. Nate”s father”s office reeked of money. One lamp burned low on the desk, casting long shadows that slithered over bookshelves heavy with tomes and trinkets. I skirted the desk, studying the shelves behind for a good hiding spot.
I retrieved the camera from the clutch bag that dangled from my wrist and my hands trembled as I placed the device inside a carved wooden box nestled among the books. The holes punctured in its sides were eyes now, unblinking and ever-watchful, sending whatever Lord Carver did in his office to my mother, though what she could do with the information, I had no idea. I pressed the tiny button on the side, and a pinprick of light went green. It was live.
“Done,” I exhaled. I hurried towards the door, relief filling me, but my hand was a whisper away from the brass handle when it turned on its own. The door creaked open and Lord Carver”s figure filled the frame, his eyes locking onto mine. Beside him stood another man, tall and broad like Carver.
“Miss Matthews, isn’t it?” Carver said. “What brings you here?”
My heart seemed to slow rather than speed it, beating hard.
“I—I was looking for the bathroom.”
“Really?” His eyebrow arched with a scepticism that made my skin crawl. He stepped inside, the other man following, and shut the door with a deliberate click that echoed through the room.
The room seemed to shrink as Carver stepped toward me. I retreated instinctively, backing up until the cool edge of the desk pressed against the back of my thighs.
“Persephone,” he said. “Let me introduce you to Lord Trevelyan. Percy, this is the boy’s Persephone this year.”
Trevelyan”s eyes raked over my body in a way that had my blood running like ice water, and I swallowed hard.
“Isn”t she exquisite?” Carver asked. “So young and vibrant. How old are you, my dear?”
“Twenty-two,” I murmured.
“Ah, what a shame.” Trevelyan”s voice slithered through the air. “She looked younger than that.”
“Indeed,” Carver murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I need to go, I was looking for Nate. He said he wanted to talk to me,” I said, trying to push between them.
Carver’s hand settled on my stomach, stopping me moving past him.
“Is that so? I thought you were looking for the bathroom.”
His other hand trailed up my bare arm, making goosebumps rise up against his touch. His fingers slid along my collarbone then up, wrapping gently around my throat. I inhaled sharply.
“She has lovely smooth skin, Percy,” he said. “She feels right.”
“Indeed,” Trevelyan murmured, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam as he stepped closer.
“Older pussy is better than no pussy,” Carver said, the hand on my stomach moving lower to cup between my legs. His words felt like barbed wire, tearing through the fabric of my self-worth, reducing me to nothing more than a commodity. I pushed off the desk, shoving forward, but he pushed me back again, his fingers tightening around my throat.
“You know, as Syndicate members, you belong to us too, Persephone,” Carver said, leaning close and murmuring in my ear.
Trevelyan, now close enough that I could feel his breath hot on my face, slid his hand into the neckline of the dress. His fingertips found flesh, cupping my breast in a squeeze that was both possessive and dismissive. A sickening reminder that they saw me as a mere object for their pleasure.
“Charming,” he commented, his voice dripping with satisfaction, as if he were appraising a piece of art to hang on his wall. Not a living, breathing person, but a still life created for his viewing.
“Quite,” Carver agreed.
“I don’t,” I choked out. “I belong to Bast. And Nate. And Tristan. No one else is allowed to touch me.”
Carver laughed. “My dear, Nate turned tail and ran when I put my arm around your waist. You really think he’d have the balls to come in here and stop me doing whatever I want?”
Desperation clawed at my insides, vying with the rising bile of terror and revulsion.
“Shh,” Carver soothed mockingly, as though comforting a child.
I fought the urge to retch and I grabbed Carver’s wrist in a feeble attempt to pry his fingers from my throat. Carver”s smirk widened at my futile attempts, and he began to pull up my dress. My skin crawled beneath his touch, and I yanked brutally at his wrist. Carver laughed.
“Feisty,” he noted. “I like that.” He gripped my hip, tightly, the fabric of my dress still wadded in his hand, and turned me round, forcing me down on the desk.
“No,” I cried out. “I’ll scream.”
“They won’t hear you,” Carver said calmly. “And I’m sure Trevelyan will put something in your mouth to keep you quiet.” He pushed my dress up over my back, baring me to him, and ran his hand down over my ass.
“No underwear. How accommodating, my dear. And such a small round little ass. How I wish my son had brought you home a few years ago. Never mind. You’re small enough.” His fingers dipped between my ass cheeks and I cried out in pain as he forced a finger into my ass.
“Mmm,” he said. “Tight.” He leaned forward and murmured in my ear. “Hold on, dear. This is going to hurt.”
I heard the clink of his buckle, and felt the hardness of his cock pressing against my ass. Tears ran down my face onto the desk.
There was a loud knock on the door and Carver paused, his dick in his hand.
“What is it? I’m busy?”
“My lord, Mr Kozlov wanted to introduce you to Mr Ilyin before he left for the night.”
“Shit,” cursed Carver. “Tell Mr Kozlov I’ll be right down.”
I felt him move away, and heard him zipping up his trousers, but I lay there, too terrified to move. His hand cracked down on my ass making me jump.
“Never mind, dear. Next time, maybe. Trevelyan, I’m afraid you’ll want to be there for this introduction too, or I’d let you take over.”
“I do. It”s a shame, but she is a bit old for me. I have a party next weekend though. Will you be attending this month? I have a new addition that I think you’ll be very pleased with.”
“I’ll be there,” Carver said. “It’s been too long.” He pulled my dress down, and tugged me up from the desk by my hand. Tucking my hand under his arm, he guided me to the door like the quintessential gentleman.
“It was lovely meeting you, Persephone. I am sorry to cut our time together short. Perhaps if I find you later…”
He turned to lock the door of the office and I yanked my hand away from his arm.
“Go to hell, you fucking creep,” I snapped.
His hand shot out, grabbing my throat and slamming me against the wall. Any trace of lust had vanished and the coldness in his eyes had my stomach clenching fear.
“If you would like to complete your year as Persephone with my son, I would suggest keeping your mouth shut. You have such pretty limbs, it would be a shame if you lost all of them.”
My eyes widened, but he released me and stalked off, Trevelyan at his side. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking, leaning against the wall so I didn’t fall down. I couldn’t tell the guys. I didn’t even know what they’d do. They’d be so angry he’d touched me. Would they go after him? Like with the security guard? Carver was powerful though, and clearly dangerous. What if they got hurt? I couldn’t take the risk.
I swallowed, pushing off the wall and standing alone. I reached up, pressing my palm against my damp cheeks. My makeup would look awful. I needed to find somewhere to clean myself up, and then I needed to lock this away somewhere I never thought about it again.
I continued down the hall, one hand trailing against the wall in case my shaky legs gave way. Two more bedrooms, neither with ensuites. Another door. My hand wrapped around the cool bronze handle and I turned it, pushing the door open. This room was completely dark, but from the slight glimmer of moonlight from outside, I could make out that it was much bigger than the last two. It might have a bathroom.
I stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind me, but I’d only take two steps, when I heard a shaky breath. I froze. There was another, and I turned to the right, just about making out the large outline of a person sitting on the floor in the corner.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here,” I said, backing away towards the door.
“Paige?” It was Nate, but his voice sounded strange. Higher than normal, and shaky.
“Nate?”
“Yes. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” The pain in his voice tore at my heart, and quickly I locked the door, and moved towards him.
“Is everything ok?” I asked. Great. What a stupid fucking question, Paige. Obviously he’s not ok.
“No,” he choked. I crouched beside him, reaching my hand out to touch his shoulder but he flinched away.
“Don”t touch me.” His voice was brittle.
“Why not?” I asked softly, retracting my hand but still seated beside him. His breathing was heavy and shaky, each breath as if it pained him to take.
“It”s... it”s too much,” he whispered, sounding lost and broken. “Everything is just too much.”
He was sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs, almost like a child, but his fingers raked up and down his trouser legs, a gesture I recognised all too well, and realisation crept over me.
“Nate, are you having a panic attack?”
He jerked his head once, not quite a nod. I took a deep breath.
“Ok, you need to relax and breathe,” I said. “Nate, I’m going to turn a light on, ok? I’m not leaving, but I need to see you.”
I got up, feeling my way around till I found a lamp on the bedside table and flicked it on. It was warm, and not too bright, but Nate flinched, and I wondered how long he’d been sitting here. Since he’d left the party? Oh god, he’d been on his own for ages, dealing with this alone.
I sat down next to him, my back against the wall. I kept my hands in my lap, but I sat close enough that our upper arms were pressed together. He’d taken his jacket off, I could see where he’d dropped it on the floor, and undone his bowtie. Two shirt buttons were undone and I saw him swallow. He stared straight ahead, and his body moved with tiny rocking movements, though by his tense muscles, I could tell he was trying not to.
“Nate, baby, listen to me. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me.” I slowed my breathing, making them deeper so he could hear me. It actually helped calm me too, and we sat there together. After a few minutes, I heard his breath pull in with mine, and then a second one.
“That’s good,” I murmured. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”
He took another shaky breath, and another, and slowly his breaths began to even out and he seemed to become calmer. He stopped dragging his fingers over his leg, and I felt the muscles in his arms relax.
“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice low and soothing. “What set you off?”
“Noth- nothing.”
His insistence was weak and unconvincing. He was hurting. Pain radiated off of him from whatever it was he kept locked so deep inside him.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “but I’m here if you want to let something out.”
Another jerky nod. We fell quiet for a few more minutes.
“You don”t understand,” he muttered bitterly. “You can”t help me.”
“I get panic attacks too,” I said quietly. “I had one at my last university, right in the canteen in front of hundreds of students. It was so humiliating.”
“What set you off?” he asked, still not looking at me.
“Someone dropped a plate,” I answered, shivering at the memory. “It crashed on the ground and smashed, and there was food everywhere. Everyone was laughing and cheering, and I just… froze.”
Nate didn’t say anything, but something told me he was listening, so I carried on, ignoring the little voice that told me to be quiet, to not say anything.
“I was about eleven. My mother made me carry the plates for me and my Dad to the table for dinner, and I tripped. I dropped the plates on the floor and they smashed. The food went everywhere.”
I swallowed, trying to summon the courage to keep going. It was only the thought that it might help that made me push on.
“My mother was so angry. She grabbed me by the hair and forced me down onto the floor. She screamed at me and told me we couldn’t afford to waste food, and I had to eat it off the floor.”
Now I was the one staring ahead into the dimly lit room, and I felt Nate turn and look at me.
“I remember. It was pork chops, chips, peas and gravy. Back when I was allowed to eat chips. She made me eat it off the floor, holding my hands behind my back. She said if I was going to behave like an animal, I could eat like one.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.
“My father had been drinking and he was hungry, and now there was no food. My mother tried to give him hers, but he threw the plate at her and yelled at me for making him hungry. He kicked me in the ribs over and over again, till I cried and begged him to stop. He stormed out then. My mother screamed at me again. It was my fault he’d walked out and if he never came back we’d be homeless. She sat there and made me eat every scrap of food off the floor, even making me lick up the gravy. Then I had to spend the night cleaning the kitchen till it sparkled.”
Nate shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. Without a word, he pulled me onto his lap and held me close to him, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned against his chest, feeling his damp shirt, and realised it was from the tears running down my face.
“I never told anyone that before,” I said. “The others… Bast and Tristan… they can’t really understand.”
“No, they can’t,” he said softly. We lapsed into silence again, as he held me close.
“You didn”t deserve that,” he finally whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was rough, but sounded more normal.
“No one deserves that,” I murmured back. “Not me, not you.”
He was silent again. I could sense he was wrestling with his own demons. This was more than just a party-induced panic attack; it was the darkness of his past reclaiming its hold on him.
“He put his hand on my shoulder,” Nate said finally. “Downstairs, at the party. In front of his friends, he touched me. And then he touched you, and I couldn’t… I’m such a fucking coward.”
My heart ached, as I started to put the pieces together. How he hated being touched, how much he detested his father, but was utterly terrified of him.
“Oh, Nate, you’re not a coward,” I said, looking up at him.
“If anyone else had touched you, I’d have punched them without thinking about it,” he growled. “No one touches what’s mine.”
“But you couldn’t because it was him?” I guessed, and he nodded.
“I had to get away to calm down, and I wasn’t thinking clearly, and then I came in here…” He gazed around the room and I felt the tension start to creep back into his body. “I haven’t been in here since the last time he…”
The last time. There have been multiple times. I felt sick, and horrified, and in a heartbeat I knew Nate could never find out about what had happened in his father’s office. That would go with me to the grave.
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Ten the first time,” he said, staring over my head. “I’d been out playing with the dogs that afternoon, and I’d let them into the entrance hall instead of taking them through the mudroom, and they left paw prints everywhere. He said it took the staff an hour to clean the mess up, and I needed to be punished. He… I…”
A tear ran down his face, and I felt as though my heart was breaking. Nate reached up, angrily brushing it away.
“He beat me with his belt afterwards for crying like a pussy. Said if I was going to be a pussy, he’d treat me like one.” He swallowed hard. “The last time, I was sixteen, and I’d started working out, training hard, you know?”
I nodded, not wanting to say anything. He needed to let this out.
He sighed. “I guess I was starting to bulk up, fill out. I didn’t look… right anymore.”
Young. He didn’t look young. My stomach churned. I should have grabbed the fucking paperweight off the desk and smashed Carver over the head with it.
Nate looked down at me, his eyes meeting mine directly for the first time.
“Do I make you sick?”
My mouth fell open. “What?”
“Now you know about… me. What I am. Does it make you sick?”
I hesitated, and pain flashed across his face. Without thinking, I reached up, laying my palm over his cheek.
“He makes me sick, Nate. Not you. I want to kill him for hurting you.”
He blinked, and his hand came up, covering mine rather than pulling it away. “You do?”
I nodded. “I want to kill him, and I want to do it slowly, so he really fucking hurts. Maybe even taking months.” I wasn’t exaggerating either. The pure rage I felt towards Carver burned in my gut. I hated him before, now I wanted to hear him scream.
Nate lowered his head and kissed me. It was surprisingly soft for him.
“No one has ever said something like that to me before,” he admitted.
I shook my head. “You haven’t told Bast and Tristan, have you? Because they would do anything for you, Nate, and I know they’d feel the same as me.”
Nate shook his head. “They can’t know, I don”t want them to know how weak I am. It’s bad enough that they see some of the attacks.”
“You’re not weak, Nate. You’re so strong, the strongest man I’ve ever met.”
I slipped my hand round to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss me again. This time, I took control, kissing him passionately, wanting him to feel how much I cared for him. How much I…he pulled back, pushing me away roughly.
“No,” he snapped.
Shit. Too much. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn”t mean to…”
“I can’t be with you, Paige. This isn’t some sweet romance where you tame the beast and he starts dreaming of white picket fences. I’m a monster, Paige.”
“I”ve seen the blood on your hands, Nate. And on your clothes. I’m not as naive as you think,” I said gently.
“I’ve killed people for him, Paige. That’s what he does. Teams of mercenaries that go out and kill people.”
“Because it’s him making you do those things,” I said, trying to ignore the flicker of fear inside my chest.
“Because I like it,” he growled. “Because when I hear the screams and the blood on my hands, it makes me feel good, powerful. It’s why I can”t have you, Paige. I need things that you can’t…”
I breathed in slowly, starting to understand all the times he’d held me in the night, clearly wanting me, and never letting me close after that one amazing night.
“What do you need, Nate?”
His eyes glittered as he looked down at me. “I want you restrained so you can’t move. I want you naked, so I can see every inch of that perfect skin before I start to mark it. I want to hurt you, Paige, I want to hear you scream. I want to fuck your mouth so hard, tears fall. I want you to beg for me. I want to hold you down and force my cock into you, and fuck you so hard you see stars. I want to use you up, until you can’t even imagine another man’s cock inside you, when the only name on your lips is mine.”
He spat the words as if disgusted by himself, but beneath me I felt his cock harden as he described everything he wanted to do to me and a thrill ran through me.
“Show me,” I whispered.
“What?” he froze. “Were you even listening to me? I’m a fucking monster, Paige. A rapist, just like him. I”m just like him…”
His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the wall, banging it over and over. I moved, sliding my leg over his lap so I was sitting astride him and caught his head in my hands.
“Stop it, Nate. Look at me.” He stopped banging his head, but he didn’t open his eyes, breathing in hard.
“I said, look at me,” I ordered.
To my surprise, he opened his eyes.
“You are not a monster. You are not a rapist and you are nothing, nothing like him. You’re a beautiful, damaged man that holds me every night before we sleep. Who hurts someone who puts me in danger? Who carries me to the bath and washes my body so tenderly? Who sets my soul aflame with his kisses?”
I pressed my lips against him, shaking with pure emotion, needing him to see what I did.
“If you really wanted to hurt me, to rape me, you would have. But you don’t, Nate. You just said, you want me to beg for you. You still want my consent, you just want to be rough, and I don’t think it’s because you’re a monster. I think it’s because you’re an intense person who feels so deeply and you bottle everything up inside till it explodes out of you.”
Another tear escaped, and this time I leaned forward kissing it away.
“I know this is you, because it’s me too. And I love the way the other guys care for me, but right now, I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of glass. I want you, Nate. I want you so badly right now. And I’m begging for you, for your cock, for your pain.”
I rubbed myself over his cock, kissing across his cheekbone to his ear.
“Ruin me, baby.”